


Three Years

by WrittenLetters



Series: Descension [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Book 4: Balance, Depression, Gen, Rehabilitation, korra alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenLetters/pseuds/WrittenLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra tells herself that she will seek out Katara as a last resort - for Korra is the Avatar and is able to handle this... right?</p>
<p>A multi-chapter, drabble fic expanding on Korra Alone and a follow up of a previous fic, Fourteen Days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> When Korra Alone debuted, I had so many feels... Honestly I would have loved another episode or two dedicated to Korra's healing process/journey... And while Fourteen Days isn't straight up canon, it did hit on a few points that were in the episode/aftermath of Book 3, so I decided to continue to play around with this part of the series. 
> 
> These drabbles may be out of order, short or long, poignant or fluffy - I have no clue (though if you are expecting any shipping you'll have to squint). More than likely these will appear in spurts with various dry spells in between. Ultimately the main goal is to bounce around the three years that Korra was gone and develop it to the max.

When Korra is rolled into her room - she'll have to get used to this, for the time being, this is only temporary, it  _has_  to be temporary - and is left alone she hears her doubts.

Republic City had her friends, more akin to an extended family, that would distract her from the internal monologue festering within. The transport ship would keep her entertained with creaks and the lull of ocean waves at every waking moment - sleepless nights spent humming old sailing tunes that mimic the rhythm of the waves. Yet here, in a home that's not her home, in a room that's meant for her and yet can never be for her - a chieftain's daughter she may be, but she's that Avatar first and foremost - it's  _quiet_.

Korra is just left with her thoughts and the poison they contain courtesy of Zaheer.

* * *

 

Every night Korra tells herself that she will wake up after sunrise. She will then proceed to work out - meditation, beginner bending exercises, or whatever comes to mind - and then have a traditional Southern Water Tribe breakfast. From then on, the day is hers.

Instead, Korra doesn't stir till high noon, it takes her another hour to lift herself out of bed, lunch is nonexistent, and Korra does not come downstairs until the dinner hour due to a second set of hands and feet guiding her wheelchair. 

She does not take visitors, her mother will check in sporadicly, and Korra thinks the odd White Lotus agent is keeping tabs on her ( _like always_ ), but that's it.

Her thoughts consume her at all hours - in between examining each strand of hair for knots or tangles, among twisted sheets, with every drop of sweat that slides down the planes of her face from fear (not exertion), mingled in the water she drinks and the tears that seem to spill into her glass - nothing stops.

The Red Lotus is  _gone_... Well... yes and no. Zaheer is locked away and the rest of his core team is dead, but the impact is still there.

_I'm not needed anymore._


	2. 002

The first time Korra falls out of her wheelchair (in the South Pole at least), the resounding thump of dead weight shatters the rhythmic cycle of “I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive” that she’s been humming to herself.

It’s replaced with White Lotus hands that consume her like Vaatu once did. Coiled around her exhausted, heavier than lead limbs, dragging her across and upwards and _please let me go_.

She does not scream until Senna is asking her what happened, and Korra sees Tarrlok’s twisted grin that precedes his bloodbending puppetry on her mother’s face instead.

 

* * *

 

Days later, she falls a second time.

One moment Korra is in Xai Bau’s Grove – but not really for this version has a sky as dark as the ocean – and comes across Zaheer.

He is chained to the tree that he once meditated under, thrashing against his manacles and the chains that tether him to the earth. There are no grunts, only ranting, screaming words that cut far deeper than the poison he forced through her skin.

But that’s only because these are the same words that Korra tells herself everyday.

Just as he starts again from the top of this speech, repeating this vicious routine, Korra finds herself on her bedroom floor, eyes starring up at the ceiling, in the physical world.

She does not bother calling for help, the night guard outside her window is asleep on watch, and the decorative pelts seem to soothe her back to sleep as she cries into them asking for the nightmares to stop.

They continue and manifest in different forms.

 

* * *

 

Korra doesn’t want to fall ever again.

She straps herself into her wheelchair with knotted fabric scraps and refuses to sleep in her bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Months later when Korra falls during the therapy sessions that Katara holds for her, she finds herself getting back up due to healing hands and the voice of fourteen year old girl rather than an wise old woman.

Something pulls her forward and up.

It’s a start, she tells herself.


End file.
